


At the Thirty-First Evil Mastermind Convention

by Basingstoke



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Tingleverse - Chuck Tingle
Genre: Conventions, Evil, Gen, Humor, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: The annual Evil Masterminds Convention is the preeminent venue for networking, blue-skying, and brainstorming your next evil plot. Note: evil credentials will be checked at registration and at the door.





	

Snart examines the Evil Deeds Checklist. "Huh. We're supposed to corrupt innocents. Tell me if you see any." 

"This is lame," Mick says, flicking his lighter. "I wanna burn something."

"The pamphlet says if you set someone on fire, it's allowed, but it may start a cross-dimensional war," Snart says. "So, pick out someone nice and flammable and we'll do it later." 

"Sure," Mick growls. His eyes dart over the crowd. 

It's an interesting crowd, even if the convention itself is dull. Snart pockets the convention materials and leans against the wall with Mick. He recognizes Loki in the corner, his horns bobbing as he speaks to Destro. 

"Captain Cold. So good to see you."

"Penguin," Snart says. "It's been a long time." 

They shake hands. Penguin is looking ill, as always. He's a small, pale man in a brocade morning suit, leaning on a cane with the head of a penguin with emerald eyes. The look is more sinister than it really should be. 

"I have an ice-related crime that may interest you," Penguin says. 

"My schedule is full through June, at least," Snart says. Penguin shrugs. "Have you heard anything about the headliner?" Snart continues. 

"The organizers assure me it will appear. I'm too excited. Oh--excuse me, there's Luthor, we need to talk," Penguin says. He limps past Leonard with surprising speed on his twisted leg. Behind his back, he draws a dagger from the tails of his coat.

Mick snorts. "Vendettas are starting early this year." 

"Luthor hired his ex. He knew what was coming. Try not to cross Penguin; he holds a grudge worse than a mother-in-law."

"Noted," Mick says, narrowing his eyes.

"You," a woman says. Snart turns to eye her. "I hear they call you Captain Cold." 

"Who wants to know?" 

"Cease and desist all cold-related activities, or feel the wrath of the Snow Queen!" She raises her hand and snow falls between her fingers, brushing over him. 

"Mm, refreshing. Who are you again?" 

She bares her teeth and pelts him with snow. A crust of snow forms over his body. 

He's wearing his parka, though. Professional villain attire is required at the convention. "Sorry, I don't read children's books," he says. 

At this point, he feels the cold in his chest. He coughs. Snow drifts from his mouth. 

Mick's gun whines. "Back the fuck off or get melted," Mick says, holding his heat gun to her face. 

"Minions should be checked at the door," the Snow Queen says.

"I'm his dragon," Mick says. "Now scram." 

She scrams. Snart coughs up more snow. The chill eases, though, and he straightens up and catches his breath. 

"You okay, boss?" Mick says. 

"I hate magic." 

"I know, boss," Mick says, hugging him around the neck. "Let's get some whiskey to warm you up."

Snart can't argue. He lets Mick haul him to the hotel bar. 

There's a lot of gold in this hotel. Snart tests the gold trim on the bar with his thumbnail. "Fake," Mick says. "Already checked. There are gold taps in the shitter." 

Snart rolls his eyes. 

"Y'all are like fucking magpies," the mohawked bartender says. "What do you want?" 

"Cheap ass brown liquor," Mick says. 

"I got some Hog Foot." 

"Perfect," Mick says.

She pours. The shots smell like gasoline. Snart holds his breath as he tosses it back. "Hey," the bartender says. "I'm trying to break into the business. Y'all hiring?" 

Snart shakes his head. 

"What are your skills?" Mick asks. 

"Capoeira, machine gun." 

"Good with wine?" 

"I can tell Merlot from Shiraz." 

"Paperwork?" 

"Not so much." 

"Steer clear of Cobra. They hire for capoeira and land you with paperwork. Then they shoot you for poor performance. Penguin will hire for bartending skills but he wants you to shut the fuck up. Luthor has good benefits but lots of paperwork," Mick says. 

"Superman, though," she says. 

"Doesn't hit minions too hard. Likes putting people in prison. Bison," Mick says. "M. Bison is usually hiring. Lots of capoeira."

"Bison doesn't give a damn whether you live or die, though. The basic problem is that a player who is hiring has lost people. It's sloppy," Snart says. "People like me, we find a person and he doesn't die until we kill him." He claps Mick on the back. 

"Yeah," Mick says. 

"So the better strategy is to find an up and comer and stick with them. But the obvious problem is--"

"How do you know who's legit," the bartender says. 

"Exactly." 

"Don't sign on with the Snow Queen," Mick says. "She's rude. I'm going to set her hair on fire." 

Snart leans in. "You didn't hear this from me." 

The bartender leans in as well. "I'm deaf. Can't hear a thing." 

"Think outside the box. L.A.," he says. 

"L.A.?" 

"It's 2016, people are branching out. The Kardashians need minions, don't you think?" 

"Huh," she says. "Yeah."

Snart leans back. "So that covers the tab, right?" 

She pulls an Uzi from under the bar and cocks an eyebrow. Snart rolls his eyes and pays. "What's the word on the headliner? When are they coming in?" 

"Pretty soon. It's on the schedule and the bosses are real strict with the schedule," she says. Snart nods his thanks. 

They head back into the main hall. At the registration table, a vampire and a bearded man in a cape are consulting paperwork and glaring at each other. "Okay, this registration is for themaster@gallifrey.star, and this one is for themaster@sunnydale.net," the organizer says. "And we found the second badge, it was in the mistake box. We thought it was a duplicate." 

" _Thank_ you," the vampire snarls, taking it from the organizer's hands. 

A silence falls over the crowd. Leonard and Mick straighten up. "I think this is it," Leonard murmurs. Mick nods silently. 

A heavy step echoes through the packed room, followed by the swish of wings and the smell of blood. The crowd parts: evil businessmen, evil scientists, and evil generals alike. 

2016 stalks slowly through the hall. 

"Go time," Leonard says into his collar mike. He pulls out his cold gun; Mick pulls out his heat gun; they both step into 2016's path. "Stop right there! You're coming with us!" 

The crowd stares at them. 2016 just laughs. 

Superman and Supergirl break through the bulletproof windows. "That's enough!" Supergirl shouts. "Your reign of terror is over!" 

2016 waves its hand and the two heroes fall to the ground. Snart and Mick fire, Snart aiming at its clawed feet and Mick at the oily, flammable-looking wings, but both fire and ice lick around the figure without effect. 

This is okay; they're just the distraction. The cavalry is climbing through the broken window and firing up their proton packs. 

"Hey, bitch," Tolan says, with the warning laser whine underlining her words. "This is for Prince." 

"And Princess Leia!" Holtzmann yells, as all four women turn their proton beams on 2016. 

2016 screeches as the beams hit it. It twists as the energy courses around it. They're starting to win, starting to drag it into the containment box, when goddamn Judge Doom hits them with a goddamn cartoon hammer. 

"Prince was overrated," Judge Doom says. Penguin and Luthor, both dressed in purple, draw on him. 

2016 laughs. It spreads its wings over the women as they are sprawled on the floor, preparing to strike.

"the man name of Chuck has come to this layer looking for a kinder way but this seems very unkind," a man says. 

There's something compelling about him, something that calms the room. Luthor and Penguin, covered in paint-like cartoon blood, stop stabbing Judge Doom. And 2016 turns its horned head and stares at the man. It snarls, dripping blood from its teeth.

The man is wearing a white gi and a convention badge bearing the name Chuck Tingle. He's in the chaotic artist track. "good and evil are names but THE VOID makes itself known," he says. "resist the cosmic horror agenda."

2016 growls. It swipes at Chuck, but doesn't connect, as though magnetically repulsed. 

Chuck looks 2016 in the eye. He holds up a tablet with a manuscript titled "Pounded in the Butt by the Sentient Physical Manifestation of 2016." "Love is real," he says. He presses "send." 

2016 dissolves into a pile of crabs. They shriek, their shells bubbling, as they wriggle free of 2016's blood-stained robes. Snart steps back and lets them scuttle over his feet. 

All the phones beep as the calendar speeds forward. Superman and Supergirl sit up, blinking. "Ow," Holtzmann says. Chuck Tingle smiles beatifically and wanders toward the stairs.

Snart turns to the adolescent figure of 2017. It has small, fluffy wings, barely fledged. "Do better," he says. 

"No promises," 2017 says. 

*

hopefully the goddamn end.

**Author's Note:**

> [Captain Cold](http://arrow.wikia.com/wiki/Leonard_Snart)   
>  [Heatwave](http://arrow.wikia.com/wiki/Mick_Rory)   
>  [The Master](http://buffy.wikia.com/wiki/The_Master)   
>  [The Master](http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/The_Master)   
>  [The Ghostbusters](https://www.ghostbusters.com/)   
>  [Chuck Tingle](https://twitter.com/ChuckTingle)   
>  [The Dragon](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheDragon)
> 
>  
> 
> And fuck you, 2016.


End file.
